Relics (15 page)

“Still nothing?” I asked. He shook his head.

Jones looked at him thoughtfully. “This is unusual, is it not?”

“Very. The three relics together should have led me to a fourth. It's as if something or someone is blocking them. I caught flashes, but not a location.” He looked at Jones. “I'm sorry, but it's not coming clear for me.”

Jones seemed unperturbed. “We shall try Mason.”

We agreed and followed Jones back to the elevator and up to the main house.

Jones walked us outside to his car. Stuart stood holding the back door open for us. Before getting in, Thulu turned to Jones and said, “Thank you very much for letting me see the relics.” Thulu held his hand out to me. I moved to take it.

Jones was obviously pleased. “You are quite welcome.”

“Yes and thank you also for that fabulous lunch and showing me parts of your collection. It was awesome beyond words,” I said with a smile. Nana would be proud I remembered my manners.

“The pleasure was all mine. Please, let me know when you would like to visit Mason.”

“I will.” I got into the back seat, followed by Thulu.

The drive back to the city was quiet. Thulu was lost in thought, and I watched the scenery flow by. We'd need to contact our friend when we got home.

One night three years ago, Nana Fae had dropped by unannounced. Not something she usually did. We'd just finished the tediously touchy job of refinishing the front stair case and replacing four of the damaged balusters of the handrail. Matching them to the originals had required painstaking detail. Thulu and I sat on the floor admiring our work when the doorbell rang.

Nana Fae came in, with hugs, kisses, some deli sandwiches and potato salad. And tickets to a show the next night. She said it was an early anniversary present, which was only a week away.

“Who is Brandy Malone?”

“You'll love the show. Magic, some music, very elegant, very exclusive. People would kill to get these tickets. The show is sold out for months. I think you both deserve something special, and I think that you will enjoy this show like no other.” She twinkled at us.

I don't trust Nana when she twinkles. It usually means she's up to no good. Sad to say that about one's own grandmother, but it tends to be true.

“Oh and kiddies, evening dress please. It really is elegant.” With that she breezed back out the door, blowing kisses as she went.

Thulu and I looked at each other, shrugged and just went with it. That's the best course of action when dealing with the Nanas anyway. After downing the lunch Nana had brought, we went upstairs to check the closet.

We quickly decided that elegant was not something we'd done very often. I doubted my wedding gown and Thulu's tux would be appropriate, so we went out for a quick shopping trip.

Lies. There's no such thing as a quick shopping trip for clothing. Just because I like comfort doesn't mean I'm a pushover when it comes to dressing up. I like to strike just the right note.

Thulu and I wandered through shops. He found several suits and went with one in charcoal gray. He stood patiently while the tailor did his thing, and I brought shirts for his approval. He chose a pale blue silk shirt, and then I was off for ties. Finding a nice one with grays, blues and some red, I presented it with a flourish and received a grateful nod from Thulu.

Next it was my turn. It was over three hours and a zillion dresses later before I went with a floor length, dark red gown. It was long sleeved, cut in a low V in front and hugged my slender figure to flair out below my hips. I had black dressy heels and a purse at home, and Thulu found a beautiful black and gold silk shawl that was perfect.

We were set for the next night and went home, exhausted, but triumphant.

We were between cases, so the next day was a primp day for us. We spent the day watching movies and relaxing. Manicures and pedicures are wonderful pampering activities, and we took our time. I gave Thulu his manicure and pedicure first. He always kept his hands and nails meticulously clean.

I'd found a polish that matched my dress, and Thulu obligingly polished my fingernails and toenails. He was very good at this and a lot less messy than I was. My method was to slap it on and clean it up after it dried.

We decided to eat an early dinner at home and ordered Italian in. The show served drinks, but not food.

My long hair easily went up in a twist. I had a beautiful comb set with crystals that I slipped into place.

We spent a few minutes admiring each other in the full length mirrors in the dressing area, turning this way and that. We checked to make sure that tags were removed and agreed that we looked ready to go. If I do say so myself: we clean up pretty good, my Thulu and I.

My hair had stayed blonde, which surprised me. As I got older, I didn't have Nana Fae's elegance, but my features were refined like hers. I told myself the small bump on my nose added character. My eyes were green, more jade than Nana's emerald, and my eyebrows were a darker blonde and arched nicely. My skin was smooth and still dusted faintly with freckles, which had faded as I got older. The dress showed off some cleavage and accented my slim hips.

Thulu looked very GQ in his suit. His brown eyes were almost gold that night, the tawny flecks picking up the light. I could look at Thulu's eyes for hours, their color changing depending on his mood and lighting. Most women would say (and had) that he had bedroom eyes, big, framed with long, dark lashes. Add in the dimples, strong hands and clear skin and yep, he was pretty damn good looking.

We nodded at each other in the mirror and made our way downstairs. Because we planned to drink, we had arranged for a taxi to take us to the hotel.

The Brandy Malone show was located in a club in one of the five star hotels. It was located on one of the tall building’s top floors, reached only by an express elevator. We presented our tickets to the guard at a podium next to the elevator. He looked at them, asked our name and checked it off against a list. He pressed the button, and the elevator doors opened.

We stepped in and rose up at a smooth, but fast rate, judging by the digital floor numbers flashing on the display. When we came to a stop, the doors slid open to reveal a lobby, decorated in modern art decor. Black, cream, gold and red were tastefully blended in the few benches and chairs.

There were other couples in front of us. At a podium, the maître d' took tickets and checked names against yet another list. He would motion behind him and one of the servers would step forward. The maître d' introduced him or her to the guests, and they were led off into the main room by their smiling server.

Soft music trickled out from the other room. As we stepped up to the podium, we heard the elevator doors open behind us. A loud, abrasive female voice cut through the music.

“Can you imagine not knowing who I am?  Honestly, to tell me I need a reservation!”

Thulu and I glanced around to see a gaudily dressed female surrounded by three other people. She had bright purple hair, wore a short black vinyl skirt, low cut, black sequined midriff top and lots of chains. She wobbled unsteadily in high heeled, black, thigh-high boots. Her makeup was thick and heavy on the eyes. I could smell the alcohol from where we stood.

Everyone except her party came to a dead stop. She moved across the floor, and I recognized the popular rock star, Miss Diva. I always thought that was rather wishful but futile thinking on her part.

I sometimes listened to her music, but not often, even though it had a good beat and surprisingly good lyrics. She was controversial, with her slutty behavior and rumors of drugs and alcohol abuse making headlines. She tried too hard and came across as “forced.” She stepped around the other side of Thulu and spoke to the maître d'.

“Hi, I heard this show is awesome, and I'm here to see it. I need a table for four.”

The maître d' politely inclined his head.

“If you'll excuse me, these people were here first. Please, let me get them seated, and I'll be happy to help you.”

She put a hand on her hip and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

The maître d' gave us a strained and apologetic sliver of a smile.

Thulu showed him our tickets. When he heard our name, he looked up with a bigger, more genuine smile, “Oh, yes, Mr. and Mrs. Thulukan, we're so pleased you could join us tonight.” He glanced at the servers patiently waiting behind him and called one over. Thomas was a short young man and not the next in line. He stepped forward with a polite nod and smile and motioned for us to follow him.

The room was exquisite. Carrying through with the same theme from the outer area, it held about fifty tables. There was a mix of table sizes, with the largest being for six. The tables, which were mostly already full, were placed on different levels. These stepped down to a small floor area in front of a low stage.

The stage itself held a black grand piano. A tall bistro chair in black wrought iron and velvet was placed next to a matching table with a black marble top. A crystal pitcher filled with ice and water sat on the table, with a matching tumbler next to it. A crystal bowl held lemon slices on ice. Heavy, cream colored curtains stretched across the back wall and on the sides of the stage and pooled on the floor.

Thomas threaded his way through the tables and levels to one of five tables on the floor level. The three in the center were small tables for two, with the two on either end being four tops. He seated us at the center table. The others were filled, except for the four top to our far right.

“I'll be right back with your champagne. It was pre-ordered, and we were assured it was one of your favorites.”

Thulu thanked him as he left.

We looked around with interest. The ages of the audience varied widely. Some were young, like me and Thulu, while others were definitely retirement age. Everyone was dressed nicely, but not everyone was dressed expensively. Some simply knew how to put together an outfit without spending a lot. What surprised me was when we made eye contact with others. They smiled or nodded, acknowledging us. We smiled back. The atmosphere was expectant, excited and friendly. It was easy to relax in this place.

“I don't think you understand who I am!” Strident tones cut through the soft conversation. The people at the tables around us looked back to the doorway. Miss Diva could be partially seen through the doorway.

“I'm just in town for the night, and I want to see this show,” she demanded.

Another pause. The audience moved restlessly. Some of us seemed embarrassed by her behavior, others were surprised or annoyed.

I overheard the man at the next table ask who she was. His companion shook her head, as she caught my eye. She raised her eyebrows questioningly at me. I leaned across the space between our tables and told them. They shrugged, so I explained she was a rock star. Neither seemed impressed.

“I don't care if you're sold out. Just set up another table somewhere.”

I looked around. I hadn't seen a lot of places to put an extra four top, even allowing for the small size of a cocktail table.

“Well, I'm not leaving. Screw your fire laws.” Her voice became louder. I turned to look and saw her in the doorway. The maître d' led her back to the lobby.

Thomas came back at that moment, accompanied by another server. They brought a bottle of champagne and a bucket of ice on a stand. All of the servers seemed to be moving a bit quicker, as if to defuse the awkwardness from Miss Diva.

Thomas presented the bottle to Thulu, who raised an eyebrow and graciously nodded. The champagne ritual began. Thulu shot a look at me once and showed me his dimples. Once both glasses had been poured, Thulu offered some to Thomas. With a surprised smile, he quickly moved off and returned with a glass. He poured himself a tiny sip of champagne.

Thulu handed me my glass, and with a simple, “To the future,” the three of us clinked our glasses together. They both watched while I sipped.

I looked at Thulu and Thomas in shock. Yes, I knew this champagne. It was a Krug, and a bottle had been served to the wedding party at our wedding. It was also several hundred dollars a bottle. What was Nana up to, anyway?

We sipped our champagne. After thanking us both, Thomas said, “Enjoy the show.” With a twinkle in his eye, he left our table.

We sat back, chairs near each other, enjoying the moment. I glanced contentedly around the room and was startled to see a ghost gliding down the far aisle. He was in his twenties, with slicked back dark hair. Dressed in tails and carrying a top hat, he wore a long fur coat carelessly draped across his shoulders. He held an elegant walking stick in one hand. When he realized I could see him, he gave me a short bow and continued to the empty table on the far right. He sat in the farthest chair, letting his coat slip from his shoulders. It dematerialized as it sank through the chair and floor.

I turned to nudge Thulu, but he had followed the ghost's progress, as well. We exchanged looks. Interesting development.

“No, damn it, I saw an empty table. No one is sitting there, so I am going to. Come on, guys.”

I turned in time to see the rock diva clump into the room, trailed by her entourage. She glared at anyone who dared to make eye contact. I saw more than one head shake in disgust and caught a few people covering their smiles. I also saw more than one phone slip out of a purse or pocket and aimed toward her. My money was on pictures of her hitting the Internet within moments.